Artemus Spofford, or “Art” as he is called by every one, was courteous, and replied that no tramps had been seen in town for several weeks, but he and his officers would be on the alert and arrest and hold any vagrants answering the description. Not only that, but he volunteered to communicate with the neighboring towns and see that every possible precaution was taken.
“Leave it to me,” he added; “don’t mix in; I can attend to it better than you; how shall I reach you, if we scoop in the gentlemen?”
It was agreed that Art should ’phone to Bovil, where some of the Boy Scouts would call at intervals of a few hours to get any message left for them. This arrangement was the most convenient for all concerned.
It took some trying minutes for Alvin to get Hotel Samoset on Mouse Island. It looked as if Everett Ham, the night clerk, was also asleep at his post, but I must not do the faithful young man that injustice. He responded after a time, and an understanding was speedily reached.
“Is George Burton staying at your hotel?”
“Yes; he has been here for a week.”
“Please call him to the ’phone as quickly as you can; this is of the utmost importance; don’t delay for a moment.”
“Hold the wire.”
With his ear to the receiver, Alvin Landon plainly heard by means of the marvelous invention the hurrying footfalls of Clerk Ham as he dashed out of the office, along the hall and upstairs to rouse Burton. Sooner than was expected he was back at the instrument.
“Hello! are you there?” he called.